It's Complicated
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: Trapped inside during a blizzard, Draco receives some news that brings up confusing feelings. one shot.


**Author's Note:** Thanks, Jordi, for looking this over!

Written for…

Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. _Team/Position:_ Montrose Magpies, Chaser 1 _Task:_ Write about your OTP dealing with a death. _Prompts:_ accept, unravel, reparation

Kill That Character Competition. _Prompts:_ rainbows, pane, enigma, leg, sharp, isolation, blonde

 **It's Complicated**

Draco hated silence, almost as much as he hated being cooped up inside. Both of them together was almost unbearable; too much of a reminder of his years of self-imposed isolation after the war. Yes, blizzards were an absolute nightmare, he decided. The storm made it impossible to leave the house, the sharp wind sent the window panes rattling annoyingly, and it was too cold to be comfortable.

The only satisfying part of his current situation was that Astoria was stuck inside with him. She had no problems with the quiet of their small home, happy to curl up by the fire with a book for the whole evening, but her presence did wonders to calm him.

"Stop pacing," she ordered softly, patting the seat next to her on the couch. "You're making me nervous."

Draco pouted, marching toward her slowly. "Can I at least turn the wireless on? The silence is driving me insane."

There was a frantic tapping at the window just as he sat down. They could just make out a wind-ruffled owl struggling to stay upright on the ledge. As soon as the window was opened, the owl flew in in a flurry of feathers and snowflakes, and rushed right out again after dropping an envelope in Astoria's lap.

"It says it's from ENIGMA," she read as the blonde returned to her side and kicked his legs up on the coffee table.

"What's ENIGMA?" Draco asked, wrinkling his nose at the name. Astoria was the clever one and a self-professed puzzle genius. Of the two of them, he thought she was probably more likely to have heard of something named after a riddle.

"No idea, but it's addressed to you."

He took the letter back and tore into in as Astoria watched curiously. He read out loud:

"'Dear Mr. Malfoy, The Equality for Notorious Inmate Grief Management Association are sorry to inform you of the passing of Lucius Malfoy at Azkaban Prison this morning and wish to offer our condolences to your family…'"

Draco frowned at the letter, reading it again just to be sure while Astoria stroked his arm gently.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged in response, crumpling the letter and tossing it into a trash bin. "There's nothing to be sorry about. The world isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Draco, he was your father."

"He hasn't been my father for five years. Even longer than that, really," he spat, standing and stalking over to the desk in the corner of the room. "The minute that man chose You-Know-Who over his family, he stopped being my father."

He started writing a letter to his mother to tell her of the good news when Astoria came over and pulled the quill from his hand.

"You told me that he tried to apologize," she reminded him gently.

"If you're referring to the 'financial reparation,' he sent Mum and I whatever money we had left after the Ministry repossessed everything else."

"At least he tried."

"It's not like he had a choice, Astoria! This was before the divorce; everything would've gone to Mum anyway." He sighed, pushing away from the desk. "He never really apologized. Everything was falling apart, our lives were unravelling, and he couldn't be bothered to say he was sorry? I can accept that it might've been hard for him to say, but it needed saying."

Astoria bit her lip, watching her boyfriend with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance. She dropped the quill on the desktop and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands in hers.

"Draco, honey, I know things were difficult for you, but your father loved you."

"You never met him."

"I didn't have to. The way you and your mum have talked about him – about what he was like _before_ , it's obvious he cared very much about you. I'm not condoning what he did, but he did love you. And you love him, or why else is his pocket watch stuffed in your sock drawer?"

Draco leaned back in the chair and stared out the window, silent as he considered Astoria's theory. That's all it would be, he knew. His father was cruel and cowardly. He gave nice gifts, of course. The pocket watch had been the last thing he gave Draco before Azkaban, but that certainly didn't mean he 'loved' him. Keeping the watch didn't mean anything either. It was just another trinket he was more than willing to sell at a moment's notice.

Astoria, seeming to sense his disbelief, pressed a hand to his cheek and forced him to look at her.

"Are you okay?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm not sure," he answered truthfully, but gave her a smile. "I guess I haven't really thought of whether or not I still cared about him; I just assumed the extent of my feelings toward him began and ended with anger."

"And you have every right to be angry, but no one is completely evil." She summoned the ENIGMA letter from the trash and flattened it out on the desk. "Someone will need to claim him soon. Your father deserves a proper funeral at the very least, don't you think?"

Draco nodded, pulling her into his arms. "You're so clever, you know that?"

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Of course I do."


End file.
